


Oops, Wrong Person (Or Maybe Not)

by hithelleth



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Corporate, Alternate Universe - Library, F/M, but you tell me, i managed to angst it up a little, this is supposed to be crack with fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-26
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2018-03-09 04:38:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3236522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hithelleth/pseuds/hithelleth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jemma and Bakshi keep meeting by accident.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oops, Wrong Person (Or Maybe Not)

There must be something in the air that day that he, Sunil Bakshi, acts like a bloody idiot who has never been inside a library before.

One would think, though, that it is reasonable to assume a person you see tutting and swapping the wrongly placed books on the shelves is the right one to ask for help when looking for a book. Apparently not, though, since the brunette in question whips around — and now, too late, he can see she is clutching a wallet in her hand — and retorts:

“Do I _look_ like a librarian?”

The forcefulness with which she says it, narrowing her eyes at him, makes him take a step back and raise his hands to show he means no harm.

“I’m… I’m sorry. You don’t work here…” he stutters.

His reaction seems to somewhat appease her. She tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear, sighing.

“No, I’m sorry. I’m having one hell of a day and was just hoping to grab a book to get lost in during lunch and forget about everything for a while… but that’s no excuse for being rude. I’m sure you can find someone to help you at the information counter. It’s just opposite the checkout.” She waves her hand in the general direction of the entrance.

“Of course, yes, I’ll go ask… them.” He practically backs away, both embarrassed and annoyed with himself that for some reason the petite young woman affects him so, reducing him to a stammering moron.

He has a lot more luck at the information counter, the book he was looking for delivered to him by an obliging lady in a matter of minutes. He checks it out and heads for the exit, running almost straight into the brunette again.

This time at least he manages to keep his act together, opening the door for her.

“I see you’ve got your book,” she remarks.

“Yes. Again, I apologise for disturbing you…”

“No, that’s okay…”

They pause at once, stopping outside the library.

“Um, you mentioned lunch… I was going to grab a bite myself.” He inclines his head towards the restaurant just down the street. “Join me? As a way of me making up for being unobservant…”

 _No, probably not,_ he thinks. _What on earth is he even doing? This is so not his day._

She gives him a once over, wrinkling her forehead, most likely trying to decide whether he is a nut-case or a creep or both, and he is about to apologise, yet again, and leave before he digs himself into an even deeper hole when she surprises him.

“Why not.”

She turns and starts walking towards the restaurant, so he has to catch up with her.

“Okay. I promise to leave you to your book and not say a word. Which is probably for the best, considering that speaking is not exactly my forte today.”

She smirks. “Well,” she says, “perhaps, I won’t mind just a word.”

***

The good-looking stranger — Jemma might be having a bad day, but she isn’t blind — keeps his promise and falls silent after they place their orders and pay.

Reassured by him minding his food and his own book, Jemma sneaks an occasional peek at him from behind hers, trying to get a read on him. She suspects the earlier, perhaps just slightly adorable, awkwardness is not typical of him, for he exudes an easy confidence that further placates her instincts.

Not a case of a not fully mature stalker or something, then, she determines. He is probably just having a bad day himself and was unfortunate enough to cross ways with the wrong person, such as herself — though speaking for herself, it could be worse.

When he is almost finished with his meal, his phone rings, and after a few short, generic words in response to whatever the party on the other side says, he excuses himself.

“Work,” he says, wishing her a nice day or what remains of it, and leaves.

Jemma finishes her lunch, goes back to work as well, and soon puts him and the encounter out of her mind.

***

The second time, it is pouring.

He pauses on the top step just outside the library entrance as he emerges from the building, bracing himself for making a run through the rain.

At first, he can’t see her under the giant umbrella coming towards him — no, its spike verily jabs at him as the owner tries to close the umbrella while stepping under the small canopy over the stairs in order to avoid getting wet.

“I’m so sorry…” a female voice starts, the woman realising she must have hit him, as she looks up at him.

He blurts out: “Oh, it’s you.”

She frowns, blinking, and he hangs his head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that…” He hurries to open the door for her.

There is someone just getting out and another person coming up the stairs behind her and they are stalling everyone, so she walks inside, laughing shortly.

“Good luck out there,” she says, and then he steps aside, letting the door close behind her.

He sighs, shaking his head, and faces the downpour.

***

The third time he literally bumps into her in front of the library, because he is checking a message on his phone.

“I am so sorry,” they say almost in unison, before they take a good look at each other.

“I should’ve been watching where I’m going,” says he, pointedly looking at his phone.

“That’s okay,” she replies, sheepishly, putting away her own phone.

They pause.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” he says. “Or, if we keep doing it, it should at least warrant an introduction. Sunil Bakshi.”

He offers her his hand and she takes it, her grasp warm and firm.

“Jemma Simmons.”

The name sounds vaguely familiar, as if he has heard it before, but he cannot quite place it. He produces one of his business cards.

“Perhaps you could give me a call and we could meet on purpose?” he suggests.

Jemma furrows her eyebrows as she accepts the card and inspects it.

“I don’t know if that would be a good idea,” she says. “I’m working for Shield.”

 _Of course she is working for the competition_. Then it clicks in his head: she must be that top-notch scientist with a bunch of doctorates they didn’t manage to get to because Shield snatched her from under their noses.

“Well, perhaps if we leave work out of it?” he asks.

She shrugs. “Perhaps.”

He doesn’t hold out much hope.

***

They keep running into each other, and quite literally at that.

Bakshi continues to make blunders, and she can’t seem to take offence — instead she finds his faux passes rather amusing, especially with him looking utterly remorseful and exasperated with himself every time.

She has heard of him before: one of the higher executives of Hydra ( _Hydration is the key!_ is their current eye-roll inducing slogan — not that her own company’s motto, _Your skin is your Shield_ , is any better; who even thinks of those?) and the designated successor of its long-standing CEO, Daniel Whitehall.

Working for competing enterprises would present a problem in any case, but the situation is still more complicated with Shield and Hydra being particularly bitter rivals.

The fact that one of Shield’s former partners turned out to have been selling information to Hydra makes it even worse, especially since it has been fairly recent. Jemma even met the man, John Garrett, and was there during the fallout. Phil Coulson, her boss, Shield’s CEO, still gets a mad-man look in his eyes whenever either Hydra or Garrett come up. And it doesn’t help that Garrett Securities, a former Shield’s s subsidiary, now openly presents itself as Hydra’s, and that Garrett has taken all his people with him, at least one of whom was spying for Hydra as well (there could have been others, but there are no proofs.)

It is a serious dilemma Jemma faces when considering whether to give Mr. Bakshi a call or not.

In need of advice, she turns to Skye, Coulson’s unofficially adopted daughter and her best friend, currently _not-dating_ Garrett’s for-all-intent-and-purpose adopted son (the other Hydra mole, even though he thought he was only getting it for his surrogate father figure without knowing of the latter’s plans to jump ship), Grant Ward.

Just a few months ago, Skye would have been appalled at the very idea of her friend even thinking about having anything to do with the ‘enemy’. But since then she has tempered down her judgement. Finding her biological father, incidentally Hydra’s independent outside consultant, may have something to do with that, besides Grant.

Anyway, Skye not only lends her an ear, but does some digging, as she puts it. Her police sources (or hacking skills — but they pretend Jemma doesn’t know about those) reveal that Bakshi earned himself a few charges for petty crimes in his youth, spent some time in the military — which seemed to have straightened him up — and then worked as a private intelligence contractor before coming to Hydra, with nothing more than a few speeding and parking tickets since.

It is somehow reassuring that he is not spotless, but the whole situation presents such a mess Jemma still wavers, long enough that another coincidental meeting makes the decision for her.

***

The next time, they are both staring at the bookshelves in the same aisle.

Jemma doesn’t seem to have noticed him and he hesitates, wondering whether it wouldn’t perhaps be best to pretend not to notice her, either, and just let it go, since their acquaintanceship appears to have been doomed from the start.

He looks away, trying to focus on the book titles in front of him to find the one he wants.

After a few moments, it is she who speaks in hushed, library-appropriate tone: “I’ve been meaning to call you.”

“No, you haven’t,” he disagrees. “But that’s okay.”

There is a long pause, during which he can hear her pulling a book of the shelf, before he dares to look her way.

“I did it again’, didn’t I?” He sighs, gritting his teeth. “I didn’t mean to accuse you of lying, it’s just… I can’t seem to say anything right around you.”

He admits the latter part almost involuntarily. But really, what is it about this woman that almost every damn thing he says around her comes out wrong?

She smiles, though. “Well, sometimes you do all right. But maybe you can make up to me over a drink? Tonight? You know of _The Rising Tide_ downtown?”

“Um, yes?” It takes him a moment to realise she is actually asking _him_ out.

“Eight-ish?”

“Yes, that would be fine.”

“All right. See you then.” She turns on her heels and walks away before he can remember his manners to say goodbye.

***

He feels like a schoolboy. It is ridiculous. He is a grown-up, experienced man, and, if he may say so, he can charm a woman very well. He may not have had any long-term relationships — the longest lasting just a little under a year — but that has been due to the nature of his work and, well, the fact that he has not felt particularly attached to anyone so far. 

This, however, is different, unlike any lust or attraction he has felt before. Suddenly, it strikes him: he has a crush. That must be it, the reason why he acts so uncharacteristically for him. For instance, he changes twice before settling on a pair of black jeans and a matching turtleneck to go with his leather jacket.

Silly. A crush, at his age and with his job. But then, he must admit, Jemma is simply adorable.

Opting for casual attire herself, in which she looks absolutely gorgeous, she does seem to approve of his outfit when she shows up — he makes sure to be the one waiting for her, not the other way around; he is not that out of his game, after all.

Without any accidents or misunderstandings involved, the evening — well, he may just well call it a date — goes exceptionally well. They break the ice with books, quickly finding some overlapping in their tastes in literature, and the conversation carries itself on easily from there. And not only they don’t mention work, he doesn’t even think about it the entire time.

In the end, they agree they should definitely do that again.

***

Inviting Bakshi for a drink turns out to be one of her better ideas.

In the absence of trying circumstances, her instincts are proved right; he is indeed an intriguing man, and moreover, they get along well. He is attentive, intelligent, he shares her British sense of humour, and he makes her laugh.

He is also a perfect gentleman, so much so that she must take matters into her own hands, eventually.

***

The dating is terrific.

Sunil discovers that he may have not actually been dating before, or at least not for a very long time. Surely, he has taken women out for a dinner or one or other social event, and talked to them plenty. But with Jemma he can really talk — except about anything directly related to either one’s work, they made that a policy of sorts — about all kinds of things, engaging in detailed discussions, even though they sometimes fight over something and then agree to disagree.

They do the whole routine, which is, naturally, anything but routine with her: they have a dinner and movie, go for a walk, he takes her dancing, they visit galleries together…

The only problem is that he feels the need to hold himself back, with the awkward beginning and all, in order not to make her feel pressured.

He does that so well that on the fourth date, after he has walked her home, it is she who tugs him inside her apartment by his tie and pushes him back against the door as she closes it. Stepping on her toes, she locks her arms around his neck and kisses him. 

And then he gladly does all she asks of him.

***

In the morning, she looks content like a cat as he watches her through his eyelashes.

She pokes him in the ribs, rather hard. “You awake?”

“If I weren’t already, I would be now,” he grumbles. He is not really angry, and she knows it.

She giggles, stretching, and then hums happily as his hands slide over her body and he captures her lips with his.

***

Jemma likes that he doesn’t mind her being bossy and that, at the same time, she doesn’t have to do everything by herself.

She likes _him_. And things are going well, until…

***

They are meeting for a coffee the day she finds out about it, and taking her seat, she accuses him without preamble: “You have been planning a hostile takeover!”

He doesn’t deny it, which speaks in his favour, though she is too upset to acknowledge it at the moment.

“So, what, were you going to fire all of us?” she asks.

“Of course not. No one would fire you.”

She can see right away it is just another wrong thing he managed to say without meaning it that way, but this time she feels no sympathy for him, intentionally latching on it.

“So just everyone else? If you think I’d stay —”

“No one would be fired,” he grates. Then adds, patiently: “We are expanding; we need more capable people working for us, not fewer.”

Jemma snorts.

After a while, she asks: “Did you know who I was? Was it just a ploy to lure me over? Or to get me to spill the secrets? Not that I would. I mean, not that I know any.” _Great, now she_ _is talking like him. It is bloody infectious._ She glares at him.

 _He_ seems offended, however, taking a takes a deep breath before responding.

“No, I had no idea who you were, not until you told me your name. So, obviously, no, I wasn’t planning to _lure_ you over. And, Jemma, we haven’t even talked about work, how the hell would I get any information from you? And I shouldn’t be even talking to you about this.”

“Yeah, right back at you. I shouldn’t be doing anything with you,” Jemma hisses.

He pauses, then confesses in a more complacent tone: “I thought about it, asking you about things, but… well, I didn’t.”

“Why not?” she asks.

Sunil shrugs. “I’m not entirely sure. It didn’t seem… right.”

He looks sincere and a little crushed, and she believes him.

They drink their coffee in silence, much like the first time, and it makes her sad now.

“So, where does that leave us?” he asks when she gets up to leave. It is one of the rare times she can’t gauge his emotions, but she thinks he might actually be afraid of her answer, if that was possible.

She replies truthfully: “I don’t know. We’ll just have to wait and see.”

***

In the end, there is no hostile takeover.

They hate-date. Or that is what Skye calls it.

The status quo changes when Whitehall has a stroke and sometime later Coulson retires on the verge of a nervous break-down.

Bakshi, as Hydra’s new CEO, and Melinda May as Shield’s, agree — after long and strenuous negotiations — on a friendly merger.

So, as it happens, a year later Jemma finds herself at a new marketing campaign launch party. _Hydration is your Shield_ is the companies’ newest, common slogan, not any less eye-roll-worthy than the previous ones.

Jemma doesn’t feel like mingling and having people bump into her belly, so she sits at the side of the room with also pregnant Skye and observes.

There are of course all the important Shield’s and Hydra’s employees as well as Garrett Securities’ people. Since an outside party was hired to take care of security matters at the event, the latter are there as guests. Most of them look slightly lost, apart from Trip, who seems to be actively trying to make his colleagues from both sides bond.

Fitz, standing by the refreshments, must be in the middle of explaining one of his theories or bright new ideas to Dr. Lingenfelter, Hydra’s lead scientist. The woman seems thoroughly impressed, nodding now and then while trying to keep enough space between them to allow for Fitz’s wild gesturing.

Even Coulson has showed up, accepting an invitation to show support for the continuity’s sake and whatnot the PR department — which is, basically, Skye — came up with. He has retreated to the corner farthest away from Garrett and seems to be momentarily engaged in a heated, but not unfriendly, debate with Cal, Skye’s father.

There is a bunch of reporters, of course, including some tabloid ones — all publicity is good publicity, says Skye — on the lookout for something juicy.

They might even get it, judging from the way Sunil and May are talking; Jemma can tell they are disagreeing, but then they pause and nod at each other, apparently finding a common ground, or perhaps just a possibility for a compromise.

Sunil catches her watching and grins, excusing himself and making his way to her.

“What are you thinking?” he asks when he reaches her, leaning down to kiss her on the cheek.

“Just looking at all these reporters,” Jemma replies. “Trying to guess all the silly things they’ll be saying tomorrow.”

He props his hand on the armrest of her chair, to speak closer to her ear. “Well, I know one completely true thing they should say: Positively radiant Dr. Jemma Simmons —” He looks at Skye, “and just as radiant…”

Skye groans and stands up without letting him finish. “Yeah, yeah, I can see you two are going to be obnoxiously cheesy, so I’m just gonna go somewhere else.”

“Really, positively radiant?” Jemma laughs as she watches Skye join Grant, who is standing a little away. “I feel just horribly hot and fat.”

“That’s because you are,” Sunil states.

Jemma knows perfectly well what he means but she grimaces nonetheless: “Gee, thanks.”

All right, so she might ever so slightly enjoy the panic that appears on his face.

“No, I didn’t mean it like that. I mean you are hot, like incredibly sexy…” he trails off, dropping his forehead to rest on her shoulder. “I’m hopeless, aren’t I? Still can’t seem to find my way with words around you.”

She laughs. “Oh, you do quite nicely. As long as I’m the only one around whom you lose your ability to handle words.”

“You are. You are absolutely the only one I lose my way with words around,” he assures her in earnest, looking her in the eyes.

“Well, then.” Jemma smiles and pats his cheek, and he closes the distance between them and kisses her.

**Author's Note:**

> What did you think? Good? Bad? Comments are always welcome.


End file.
